<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You Haunt Me by Reylo_of_light</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837845">You Haunt Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reylo_of_light/pseuds/Reylo_of_light'>Reylo_of_light</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Autumn rainy day feels, Ben Feels, F/M, This starts unhappy, doesn't end unhappy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:27:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reylo_of_light/pseuds/Reylo_of_light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is haunted by memories. Objects can hold memories too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Haunt Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Been down lately. Wrote this randomly. Autumnal feels</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">You haunt me</span>
</p>
<p>Flames flickered as the rain hammered on the window, as if determined to snuff out the warm light.</p>
<p>The wind whipped and howled through the trees, taking the leaves with them, spreading the vibrant warm colours across the ground.</p>
<p>Outside was cold and wet, the apartment was warm and dry, but in his heart, it was as bitter as the weather outside.</p>
<p>Ben Solo gave a groan of frustration and stood from his sofa, storming to his kitchen intending to make a coffee. Black, like his heart.</p>
<p>Instead, he opened the cupboard door as was greeted by boxes of flavoured coffees. Right at the front, leering at him, was a box labelled as ‘Pumpkin Spice Latte’.</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s good! Just try it!” </em>
</p>
<p>Ben shook the laughing voice from his head and snatched the boxes up, intending to throw them in the trash where they belonged.</p>
<p><em>“Those better be here when I get back!” </em>the voice teased, laughing in his head.</p>
<p>Again, he shook his head to rid himself of the memory.</p>
<p><em>You’re not coming back though. </em>He thought to himself.</p>
<p>But still, he could not throw the boxes into the bin. He groaned, setting them down on the side.</p>
<p>It would be a waste to throw them out, that is why, he tried to convince himself.</p>
<p>He’d take them into work or something. Someone else could use them.</p>
<p>Ben began to replace the boxes on the shelf before brewing himself a coffee.</p>
<p>He had not eaten for a while. Perhaps he should fix something up.</p>
<p>Opening the fridge and the cupboards, he found them full of snacks, biscuits, cakes, doughnuts, crisps and all manner of unhealthy food choices.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh, poo you. They’re yummy.”</em>
</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Ben hissed at the memory.</p>
<p>He slammed the door closed with such force that he heard items tumble inside the cupboard.</p>
<p>He would sort that out later. More things to take into work.</p>
<p>He instead poured his coffee into his mug and took a sip.</p>
<p>He pulled a face. It was sweet.</p>
<p>Ben glanced down only to realise he’d made one of the Pumpkin Spice lattes instead of his black coffee.</p>
<p>The lightly spiced fragrance lingered in his nostrils and Ben set the mug on the counter, groaning as he dragged a hand over his face.</p>
<p>He hated all the seasonal crap that came out this time of year. Pumpkin spice everything. Toffee or spiced apple flavours. Chocolate and peppermint would follow.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh, don’t be so miserable! It is just a bit of fun! Besides, they’re delicious!”</em>
</p>
<p>Ben ignored the voice in his head, walking away from the kitchen and turning on the TV. He’d find something to drown out the voice and the memory.</p>
<p>Opening the guide, he found lists of suggested titles, saved programmes and films.</p>
<p>Titles that he had definitely not selected.</p>
<p>He had certainly not saved ‘Frozen 2’ or set a reminder to watch ‘Onward’ when it was released.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You can’t beat a bit of Disney! Especially on a cold wet and miserable day!”</em>
</p>
<p>“I am not watching this crap.” He muttered, pushing a button to turn it off.</p>
<p>Instead he found a film starting up.</p>
<p>He gave a frustrated groan and tried to turn it off.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Where the north wind, meets the sea, there’s a river, full of memory.”</em>
</p>
<p>Seemed the battery was dead.</p>
<p>Ben threw the remote to the sofa and, in an attempt to block the singing memory from his head, stormed down the hall to his bedroom. He almost knocked a small houseplant off it’s little table as he passed it and quickly moved to steady it.</p>
<p>The pot it was in was already cracked, broken once before.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Just because it was broken, does not mean it can’t be fixed. See? It’s broken parts are still beautiful.”</em>
</p>
<p>He shoved the plant back into place and turned away from it.</p>
<p>Some broken things just stayed broken. They couldn’t be fixed. And the broken pieces were sharp and ugly.</p>
<p>He slammed his bedroom door and took deep breaths, trying hard to ignore the memories that tried to dance in his mind.</p>
<p>He wrenched open a drawer to find a sweater to wear, to help fend off the autumnal chill.</p>
<p>The drawer he had opened was full of pyjamas and fluffy socks.</p>
<p>Not his.</p>
<p>He slammed it shut, hard and a frame resting on top of the unit fell down.</p>
<p>Ben picked it up.</p>
<p>Tears pricked at his eyes as he looked at the picture. His finger gently traced the preserved smile, the sound of laughter haunting him in his ears.</p>
<p>He threw the picture behind him as though it had physically burned him and stamped into the en-suite bathroom.</p>
<p>Ben splashed cold water on his face, trying to regain composure.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ben! You’re taking up the whole thing!”</em>
</p>
<p>The ghostly memory laughed as his eyes drifted towards the shower.</p>
<p>
  <em>“There’s nothing wrong with my shampoo!”</em>
</p>
<p>Ben picked up the bottle, catching the scent of coconut… and chemicals.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Beeeen” </em>
</p>
<p>He squeezed his eyes shut.</p>
<p>No more.</p>
<p>He would not be haunted by these memories anymore.</p>
<p>He snatched up the cheap conditioner, the fruity body wash and the bright pink toothbrush.</p>
<p>Carrying them into the bedroom, he threw them into a box from the wardrobe. The plants on the windowsill went in too. And the one from the hallway. The throw blanket on the sofa. Those stupid flavoured coffees. The biscuits and unhealthy snacks. The sunflower mug, the brightly coloured cooking utensils, the ‘grumpy dark lord’ mug. All into the box.</p>
<p>He dragged it back to the bedroom, blocking out the ghosts of the voice as they bought forward more and more memories.</p>
<p>Wrenching the drawer open, he threw in the pyjamas and the socks, the worn t-shirts with holes in. Folded in the drawer he found one of his sweaters – a soft black one with a hole in it.</p>
<p>It caused him to pause, fingers rubbing over the worn fabric, the subtle floral scent drifting off it into his nose.</p>
<p>He threw it too.</p>
<p>Anything else he found; he threw it into the box with the pyjamas, the blanket and the mug. Or into the other box that contained his sweater, and the photo frames.</p>
<p>No more ghosts.</p>
<p><em>“Peanut!” </em>The voice laughed happily. <em>“Peanut I found you! Haha! Look Ben, I found Peanut!”</em></p>
<p>Ben turned to look at the place he saw in his memory, carefully, slowly, moving to the side of the bed and crouching down.</p>
<p>A trembling hand reached under the bed, pulling out old sweet wrappers, odd socks and then, finally…</p>
<p>“Peanut.” He whispered as the strange cuddly creature was pulled from under the bed. It’s oversized eyes staring at him, mouth always open as if in surprise, the brownish fur slightly matted from the endless love it had received.</p>
<p>Memories played across his mind like an old film reel.</p>
<p>He should throw it out.</p>
<p>But Peanut stared up at him and Ben found himself sighing and lying it carefully into the box with the pyjamas and blanket.</p>
<p>Sighing heavily, he picked up the boxes and carried them back out to the main room and kitchen. They seemed to weigh a ton. Heavy with memories, weighted down with regret.</p>
<p>Frozen 2 was still playing on the television, and the air still smelt of pumpkin spice latte.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Perfect for a wet autumnal day!”</em>
</p>
<p>He set the boxes down and with shaking hands, moved to the fireplace. His trembling fingers opened the ornate box that had belonged to his grandmother. From inside he drew a small black box.</p>
<p>This was even heavier than the one he had just filled.</p>
<p>He carefully lifted the lid to stare at the object inside.</p>
<p>Despite the wet, the cold and the endless misery, it still sparkled with hope, full of promise of a bright future, filled with laughter; fluffy socks; Disney movies and pumpkin spice lattes.</p>
<p>Empty promises.</p>
<p>He shut the lid with a snap, and it seemed to echo, the hollow in himself hearing it snap shut, the slamming of the front door and the closing of his heart.</p>
<p>Ben Solo sank to his knees in front of the fire and cried.</p>
<p>He should have known better.</p>
<p>He was not meant for happiness. For love.</p>
<p>Ben Solo was meant to be alone.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re not alone.”</em>
</p>
<p>“I am now. And I deserve to be.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ll always be with you.”</em>
</p>
<p>“You’re not though. And you’re never coming back.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“I love you, Ben.”</em>
</p>
<p>“I wish you did.”</p>
<p>He threw the box into the flickering flames.</p>
<p>It was for the best.</p>
<p>It was better this way.</p>
<p>He just needed to get rid of the box of memories. Maybe then the ghosts would leave him be.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ben, don’t shut me out.”</em>
</p>
<p>He could still hear her crying.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Please Ben! Don’t push me away!”</em>
</p>
<p>‘I have to’ he thought. ‘I have to let you go or you might kill me.’</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s all your fault!”</em>
</p>
<p>She was screaming at him.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You are the most despicable and horrible human being on the planet!”</em>
</p>
<p>“You’re right. I am.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“I can’t believe I ever loved you!”</em>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t believe it either.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I hate you!”</em>
</p>
<p>“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The fire had all but gone out, the last embers glowing faintly in a valiant effort to stay alight. In amongst the glow, a mangled, melted box dripped over its content.</p>
<p>A cold pumpkin spice latte sat on the work top, it’s scent now indistinguishable. The TV had long since gone onto stand by, its movie ended and the bright light now gone.</p>
<p>The heavy box of memories still sat beside the latte, waiting to leave, to take its memories away with it.</p>
<p>And Ben Solo still lay on the floor, a mess as he wrestled with the ghosts in his head.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t push me away.”</em>
</p>
<p>She still pleaded in his head before the screaming and crying began again.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ben, please… let me in.”</em>
</p>
<p>He never could. It was better like this. It had to be.</p>
<p>Even though it hurt like hell.</p>
<p>“Ben, open up.”</p>
<p>It hurt more than anything he had ever felt.</p>
<p>“Ben, I know you’re in there. Please, open the door.”</p>
<p>It was no good, he was destined to be haunted by his memories of her forever. The guilt and the regret would stay with him until his dying breath.</p>
<p>“Ben, let me in.”</p>
<p>He deserved it. He’d never done anything right in his life… until her. And even then, he fucked it up. He deserved to be haunted by it forever.</p>
<p>BANG BANG BANG.</p>
<p>Ben stirred.</p>
<p>“Ben please! Open this fucking door!”</p>
<p>He could hear a voice on the other side, she sounded as sad and hurt as in his memories. It couldn’t be her…</p>
<p>“Ben please!”</p>
<p>He stumbled to his feet, hope dared to float into his chest, then it popped like a balloon. She was probably just here for her things. She probably realised that she left Peanut and came back for it.</p>
<p>She wasn’t here for him.</p>
<p>He dragged himself over to the door and opened it.</p>
<p>Her fist narrowly missed him where she’d been preparing to bang on the door again.</p>
<p>She was still beautiful.</p>
<p>Her hair was back in the three buns she’d worn when he met her. Though it was clearly soaked by the rain.</p>
<p>Her clothes were no longer the thrift store finds he’d once seen her in. Too big t-shirts and jeans with holes in. Now she was dressed in smart black boots, dark blue jeans and a cream sweater. Her grey overcoat open at the front.</p>
<p>Finally, his eyes found her face. Her delicate pink lips sparkled – perhaps with rainwater, perhaps with lip gloss. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, a dusting of golden freckles stretching across her button nose. He used to try and count her freckles, once. Her hazel eyes sparkled – were those tears?</p>
<p>She quickly wiped her face.</p>
<p>“What are you doing in the dark?” Rey asked him.</p>
<p>Ben shrugged. He had not been expecting to come face to face with Rey Niima, the love of his life.</p>
<p>The woman who he had hurt. The woman who had left him. Who had broken his heart and taken the pieces with her when she left.</p>
<p>“It’s freezing in here, have you not put on your heating? Or at least the fire?”</p>
<p>He didn’t answer, just moved to the kitchen counter to retrieve her box of belongings.</p>
<p>He could feel her eyes on him as she stepped into the room, flicking on the light as she came in.</p>
<p>Ben’s eyes lingered on the items. The last pieces of her.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Ben, you can’t sit in the dark freezing.” Rey muttered as she opened the cupboard to turn on his heating.</p>
<p>Ben’s fingers lingered for a last moment on Peanut before setting the porg back into the box and wiping his eyes.</p>
<p>“Ben?”</p>
<p>He turned, avoiding looking her in the eye and held out the box.</p>
<p>“Peanut! Oh, I wondered where you were!” She exclaimed happily.</p>
<p>At least he made her happy one more time, even if it was just by fishing Peanut out from under the bed and returning him.</p>
<p>“Ben… are these… are they all my things?” Rey asked, her voice quiet as she took the box.</p>
<p>Ben just turned away.</p>
<p>“Oh… Right. Ok.”</p>
<p>The air itself felt thick and heavy. She didn’t sound pleased. Had he missed something? Did she want something else? What had he not found?</p>
<p>He wished she would go. He just wanted to cry in peace.</p>
<p>“I’ll… I’ll just go then…” Her voice seemed to tremble as she spoke.</p>
<p>He didn’t understand it. He had given her back everything she’d forgotten to pack when she walked out. Things that had been in the wash or that she hadn’t been able to stuff in her duffle bag. What more could she possibly want?</p>
<p>“This… this was a gift for you. You should keep it.” He glanced in his periphery enough to see her set down the ‘grumpy dark lord’ mug. “And… and this… so you don’t forget that broken things can be fixed…” She set down the plant from the hallways. “Just please don’t let the plant die.”</p>
<p>She sounded incredibly sad. She had always liked that plant. She should just take it.</p>
<p>“Right… yeah. Ok. If… if that’s all…” She seemed to be hesitating. He did not know what else she could want from him.</p>
<p>She glanced around and spotted the other box.</p>
<p>“Ben… are you… are you throwing me out?” She asked him, her voice cracking.</p>
<p>Ben did not trust himself to speak. He did not want to cry in front of her.</p>
<p>“Oh… you are… well… that’s… that’s fine…”</p>
<p>There was a harsher note to her voice, it sounded familiar to Ben’s ears. Like when he tried to cover up his pain by getting angry.</p>
<p>He couldn’t understand. Why was she here? What did she want? To cause him more pain? Did she want to stamp on the broken pieces of his heart in front of him? Maybe she just wanted to see how much of a pathetic mess he really was.</p>
<p>“Why are you even here?” He growled out, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to hold the tears back. “I thought you were supposed to be thousands of miles away by now.”</p>
<p>Rey went quiet this time.</p>
<p>The wind kept howling outside and the rain just kept falling.</p>
<p>“I came back.” She whispered. “It just… it wasn’t what I thought it’d be… I tried but… it… it didn’t feel right… something was missing… someone.” Her voice was so quiet, as though she were afraid to speak the words aloud.</p>
<p>“Well you have your things now so maybe it’ll be better.” He spat bitterly.</p>
<p>Nice Solo… You always get angry when you’re hurting.</p>
<p>“Well fine then! I’ll just, I’ll take my things and I’ll leave and you never have to see me again!” She spat back.</p>
<p>“Fine!”</p>
<p>“Fine!”</p>
<p>He heard her turn and stamp away, then a thud and a yelp followed by a crash.</p>
<p>He turned on instinct.</p>
<p>Rey had tripped on the other box, knocking it and herself over and spilling the contents of both boxes.</p>
<p>Plant pots smashed, soil went everywhere; the mug rolled across the blanket; frames smashed upon impact and his sweater slid out the box.</p>
<p>He wanted to stay there. To not care. But his feet took him over to her.</p>
<p>Rey was crying.</p>
<p>He tried to help her, to check her for injury but she shifted away from him angrily, tears pouring down her cheeks.</p>
<p>Great, he’d made her cry again.</p>
<p>He began trying to pick up the broken glass and pot so she would not cut herself, cursing when he cut his finger.</p>
<p>She pulled a photo free of its frame, fingers ghosting over the preserved memory.</p>
<p>“Do you really want me to go?” She asked through her tears.</p>
<p>“I never wanted you to go in the first place.” He muttered, trying to stem the bleeding on his finger.</p>
<p>He moved to the kitchen to sort it out, trying not to watch as she tearfully looked at the photos of their time together.</p>
<p>A year of living together. Two years of a relationship. All preserved in those boxes.</p>
<p>Rey was staring at the pictures. Ben didn’t think he could stand to look at her tears any longer.</p>
<p>“I remember this one. Must have been a year ago now… All the leaves are red.” She mumbled, fingers caressing the image.</p>
<p>Ben remembered it too. They’d gone for a walk so Rey could see all the colours on the trees as they changed. She jumped around in piles of leaves and they got coffee to go. She had pumpkin spice latte. Of course.</p>
<p>“Do you ever still think about it? About us?”</p>
<p>Of course, he did. She haunted him like a ghost. Her memory was etched into everything he owned. He couldn’t make coffee without going for her mug and sickly-sweet flavours; without hearing her teasing him about his black coffee. He still felt the imprint left by her in his bed. Her favourite films and shows were saved on his smart tv.</p>
<p>Rey was in everything he did. Even months after she left him.</p>
<p>“I understand. It’s ok.” She said, voice wobbling.</p>
<p>“I still think about you every day.” Ben murmured, keeping his back turned. He felt her eyes on his back.</p>
<p>“Ben…”</p>
<p>He thought about her smile, her laugh. Of how she made everything brighter and better. He thought of her kindness and her strength. He thought of her beauty, of how she looked naked beside him or dressed in fluffy pjs, how she looked dressed up nice or in his sweater and nothing else.</p>
<p>But then, he also thought of her anger, of her tears. He thought of how she’d hurt him. How she’d screamed that she hated him, that she didn’t love him. How she told him she was leaving and never wanted to see him again. He thought about her packing and slamming the door on his heart.</p>
<p>It was as thought she could read his thoughts.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean it. Those horrible things I said at the end. I didn’t mean any of them.”</p>
<p>Ben wished he could believe her. But over the years, he’d learned that those things were true. He was horrible, despicable… he was unworthy of love.</p>
<p>“Ben… I know you don’t believe me… But I really didn’t mean any of it. I… I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Ben wrapped a band aid around his finger.</p>
<p>“Hey… my favourite sweater…”</p>
<p>His gaze flicked back to the woman who destroyed him. She was pulling the old black sweater to her.</p>
<p>“That’s mine.”</p>
<p>“Oh… right… yeah… sorry. It’s just… well… I loved this one.” She folded it up and put it to the side.</p>
<p>Ben sighed.</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine. You can… you can keep it. If you want. I just… I didn’t think you would want anything of me.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>Rey looked up at him with a teary smile that faltered when he said she wouldn’t want him.</p>
<p>She held the sweater close to her and began to pack up the boxes again, tucking photos into hers.</p>
<p>Ben sighed and moved to help her.</p>
<p>“Ben… I didn’t come here to hurt you… To take my things and leave you again.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye, gently placing the sweater in her box and Peanut tenderly on top of it.</p>
<p>“I… I… I actually came back because… because I missed… missed you.”</p>
<p>Ben paused in his collecting up of broken pieces.</p>
<p>She missed him?</p>
<p>“I left, I said those awful things, because I was angry. Because you were shutting me out, choosing work over me. I wanted to hurt you. That was wrong, but it’s not like you’ve never acted out of spite.” She tried to make light of it but faltered. “I thought, by leaving I could find my family. I thought, somehow, knowing where I came from, would help make me whole. That maybe then… you’d love me again. If I was whole.”</p>
<p>Ben stared as Rey nervously rubbed the fabric of Peanut with her thumbs.</p>
<p>“And part of me thought, maybe, if you really loved me… you would come and find me. I waited… but you didn’t come to stop me. So I told myself I was meant to go. That this was for the best. I was wrong. It didn’t give me any of the peace and completion I was looking for.”</p>
<p>Thick pearly tears slid slowly down her cheeks and it took all of his strength not to wipe them away. He needed to let her talk. He needed to hear what she had to say.</p>
<p>“Nothing filled the void left by you. I tried to make it go away. I tried dating. Anything. But it didn’t work. I tried talking to my friends…”</p>
<p>Ben fought a scoff. Her friends had never liked him.</p>
<p>“Rose said… maybe I had to be the brave one. That if I was so miserable, if I knew why, that I should fix it. That I should be brave and make the first move.”</p>
<p>Rey sniffed. Ben’s heart hammered in his chest. It couldn’t be what he thought it was. He refused to let that flicker of hope take a-hold of the few broken shards of his heart he still had.</p>
<p>“So… I came back… and I tried to work up the courage to call you or come over. And well… finally today… It was so wet and cold and miserable… and I don’t know, it just felt like I did… next thing I knew… I was walking here. I was hoping… maybe… you’ve been missing me too. That maybe you were as miserable and lonely as me…”</p>
<p>He held his breath.</p>
<p>“I don’t mean! I mean, I don’t want you to be unhappy! And if you’re happy then that’s… that’s great… and fine… but I just… I just wondered if you felt like I do… if you… if you might… might want to, talk… about… about us. About maybe… fixing this broken thing of ours…”</p>
<p>She wouldn’t look at him and her fingers were now anxiously pulling at the worn fabric of his sweater.</p>
<p>Rey… Rey missed him? She wanted to… to get back together? Is that what she was suggesting?</p>
<p>“I came here to… to see if you would ever forgive me. If you wanted to get back together… maybe… but then you were handing me my things and throwing out the memories of me and…”</p>
<p>Ben quickly dropped everything he’d been holding and cupped her face, wiping her tears with his thumbs, making her look at him.</p>
<p>“I was only doing that because it hurt too much to see them, and know you were never coming back. That it was all my fault. I lost the only good thing in my life.” He rushed the words out, unsure if he could get them out when the tears came. Unsure if he’d be able to say the right thing.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t just you. You were having problems, and I was not as patient and supportive as I should have been…”</p>
<p>“No Rey, sweetheart. You tried to get through to me, and I wouldn’t open up. I wouldn’t listen.”</p>
<p>“Ben, I should have been more patient. You weren’t ready…”</p>
<p>“I should have been. You were the only thing that mattered and I let you go.”</p>
<p>“I walked out. And maybe, if you’d been in a better place, you’d have come after me. Maybe if I hadn’t hurt you so badly…”</p>
<p>“I should have come anyway. I love you so much, it hurts. I hated myself for losing you. I should have chased you down and told you.”</p>
<p>“And I should have told you I loved you, I should never have let you think I didn’t.”</p>
<p>They were both in tears, just spilling their hearts to each other, showing all their broken pieces.</p>
<p>“Ben… can you forgive me?”</p>
<p>“Baby…” He pulled her close. “Of course… but can you forgive me? For shutting you out, for letting you go?”</p>
<p>She pressed a kiss into his wet cheek.</p>
<p>“If you promise to hold me tight now… if you’ll give me another chance to get this right.”</p>
<p>Ben kissed her cheek too, tasting the salty tang of her tears.</p>
<p>“Always, sweetheart. I love you. I love you so much, Rey.”</p>
<p>“I love you too, Ben. So much.”</p>
<p>For a moment they just held each other.</p>
<p>“Ben…?”</p>
<p>He pulled back and looked at her, waiting to hear what her question was.</p>
<p>“Can I come back home?”</p>
<p>Ben gave a laugh of nervous joy.</p>
<p>“Yes, Rey… sweetheart… of course. Nothing would make me happier…”</p>
<p>She smiled at him, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.</p>
<p>She took initiative, as she always did, and she kissed him.</p>
<p>She kissed him, and it was like coming home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed this.<br/>Kudos are cool. Comments are fuel.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>